


Who You Really Are

by speckledfeathers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Darksaber, Father-Son Relationship, The Mandalorian Spoilers, alternate title: din djarin and the audacity of this bitch, don't read if you haven't finished the season, mentions blood, say hello to the darksaber, some amount of violence but it's not very graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-20 07:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledfeathers/pseuds/speckledfeathers
Summary: He was not broken. He was a lone soldier standing to protect his clan of two— a Mandalorian army of one with the determination of a thousand. And he was going to win.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 206





	Who You Really Are

This was the way it had always been. His people, the ones who saved him and took him in— they made him a fighter, told him to wield his weapons and look upon his enemy from behind beskar and anonymity. He was taught that it made them all stronger, kept them safer. _This was the way._

It had been over a year now since Din’s life changed and he became a father. That day, he watched sacrifice and bravery unfold around him as he was prepared to draw his last breath. It was the day his helmet was removed by the IG droid and he was saved. Months passed before he found himself at peace with what had been done. Yet it still quietly haunted him, hiding in the back of his mind and whispering questions to him when it finally seemed long gone and unimportant. What kind of Mandalorian was he after being seen by something without a soul? How could that droid not have a soul after sacrificing itself? Questions he would never get an answer to. But maybe that was for the best.

Family was the only loophole. Being seen and being known was a sacred thing to be gifted only to the people closest in a Mandalorian’s life. Din had seen the face of only one other of his Creed, and he hadn’t seen it in decades. But with his child, the chance to gift that to someone else had been granted. 

The first night after the fight against Moff Gideon, Din removed his helmet around the little one— only to slip it quickly back on in a panic. He found himself feeling too vulnerable, too exposed in his ship occupied solely by the two of them. Stars from the vastness of space glittered in from the main viewpoint of the ship and yet in that moment he felt so constricted, like the entire galaxy had focused in on him and his shame. But the little one looked at him with the most innocent of eyes and smiled, easily drawing him back to the present. Three days of panic passed until Din’s helmet was taken off with shaking hands— and actually stayed off an entire evening. It got easier from there.

Walking the way of the Mandalore had been the clearest and easiest path for him to follow ever since they saved him as a child. It was the only thing he knew. His old life was gone. Whoever he and his parents had imagined he would grow up to be had been killed the day they were taken from him. He was a Mandalorian now. The fiercest, one of the most skilled, cunning and ruthless. Good at taking a beating, and he got the job done. This was his life. There was nothing else for him and he didn’t question it.

Not until now.

He and his son were a clan of two. They lived a solitary and sometimes lonely life as nomads, traveling the stars and fighting their way to safety when needed. Din was still a Mandalorian, even if he was a strange one.

But what if there was more? More than a life of hiding underneath beskar and a cold demeanor? If not for him, at least for his child— who didn’t deserve a life trapped inside an old ship with a man like him. 

As time marched forward, Din regretfully felt himself growing older and softer. He wasn’t a boy anymore. The years behind him were just as much, if not more, than the years he still had in front of him. The Foundlings were the future. And the one in his care was bright and wonderful and his cold, tired heart wanted nothing more than to make sure he was safe.

There was so much to consider, but right now Din had to focus. He and the little one were pinned down and he couldn’t reach Cara— so they were on their own.

Off to the side, the wide eyes of his son blinked up at him and tried to chase away the drowsiness. Shots were being fired, hitting various places all around them as they stayed momentarily safe. Din never asked his child for help but more times than not, help was given anyway. This was the case earlier in the battle, but it always took a lot out of him. 

The Mandalorian held his pistol at his side and tried to slow his breathing down. Bracing himself, he pushed himself up from his crouched position to quickly get a look at the situation but it didn’t go as planned— a blaster hit him straight on, hitting a vulnerable spot on his helmet.

The tinted material that was surrounded by beskar cracked into a tight spider web formation, and he let out a gasp of surprise as he ducked back down. He heard his son make a worried squeak, but he didn’t have time to comfort him.

His helmet was disconnected from the rest of his tech— in short, he was blind.

It was time to make a choice.

His cracked tech left him in the dark and yet he still closed his eyes. Maybe this was it. Being on the run meant less resources. His armor had seen better days, and now it had failed him when it was needed the most. Now it was either take his helmet off, and maybe survive— or leave it on, and subject him and his son to the fate waiting for them on the other side of their small barricade. He had already made this choice once. It terrified him then. And it terrified him now.

The hand that had held its white-knuckled grip around his blaster began to loosen, and his finger fell away from the trigger. The gun hit the ground, and then it fell from his hand altogether. Both of his hands then lifted up and grasped the cracked helmet, paused for a brief moment, and then proceeded to lift it off.

Once it was completely separated from him, Din set it gently on the ground next to him and took in a gulp of air. Battles sounded differently without it on. Everything was much more chaotic, full of static noise as it all crashed together in his ears. While his eyes adjusted to the light, he squinted at the big-eared child who was still resting a few feet away. He was still okay. They were both still okay for now.

So far, he hadn’t committed any sins. It was just the two of them that could see his face. Their little clan of two. Instinctually, Din’s gloved fingers found their way to the crest on his shoulder and traced the melded metal. The world felt like it had stopped spinning, and he had all the time he needed. This moment could last forever. His movements felt slow but his limbs shook, his mind was racing along with his heart, and after making one hard decision he now had to make another.

His little wide-eyed child looked worried, ears folded down as the noise continued on. But he looked up at his father and somehow they both knew they would be okay.

Din bent down farther and hastily placed a kiss to the little one’s forehead, then quickly scooped up his blaster from where it had dropped just moments before. Now was the second decision— easily made.

He was a Mandalorian, and he was about to break the rules.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

The only reason they hadn’t been charged yet was that Gideon needed the child alive. That was the one thing he could count on. Peering out from the side of their hiding spot, the Mandalorian took aim and two troopers went down. He could count at least four more with Gideon smack in the middle, waiting for his soldiers to do the dirty work for him.

And— he had the Darksaber.

 _“Give us the kid, Mando!”_ A Stormtrooper to his right. Din shot him twice without answering.

Three more to go.

Off to his left a grenade landed— just far enough away to not cause much damage, but it sent debris flying and Din reacted as quickly as he could to shield the foundling completely. Shards of metal rained down on them, catching the left side of his face. He winced, felt the heat of the wound and then ignored it as he let go of his child. He was crying. But there was no time to comfort him, and nowhere else safer to move him. This needed to end. Now.

The next fifteen seconds were a blur of hyperfocus, tinged with the beginnings of rage. He was up on his feet, moving out from their hideout and shooting at the nearest troopers. One got close enough to attempt hand to hand combat, and Din quickly engaged. The two were a flurry of messy punches and the Mandalorian took as many hits as he was giving. He was tired, his head wound was bleeding, and just as he took down the trooper the last one shot him from a distance— hitting him in the back of the knee.

Lucky shot. Din cried out and clenched his teeth as his joints buckled, causing him to fall forward. Hands met with the soil and he was able to catch himself before hitting the ground completely, but the pain was evident on his face.

Even so, adrenaline was a hell of a thing. He pushed himself up to his feet with a grunt, firing a few poorly aimed shots. He missed.

One more shot, and the last storm trooper was down. He let out the breath he had been holding and then slumped and stumbled forward, barely able to stay on his feet. The shot to his leg was worse than he had anticipated. But he marched forward, dragging his limp limb through the earth as he moved.

Gideon was the only body left standing. The hum of the Darksaber mixed with the Mandalorian’s jagged breaths until he stopped, and they were face to face just a few feet apart.

“You have more fight in you than I thought possible. I’m impressed.” Moff’s voice was elated, face twisting into a smirk as he looked the other man straight in the eye. “So sad about your helmet. You’re not much to look at. A sad little face with no home, no Creed to return to. Shall I do you the favor of putting you out of your misery?”

Silence. A moment of consideration. Even as blood dripped down the left side of his face and sweat burned his eyes, he felt his entire body shift. Pieces were falling into place. His mind began breaking through the fog, and as he took a deep breath into his lungs he realized how much he enjoyed the cool breeze across his face. 

“My name is Din Djarin. I am a Mandalorian. And you can’t take that away from me.” There was fear in his heart but even stronger was his fight. He stared his enemy in the eye and they stared right back. This moment, just like the day the two of them met, was life altering. Din was forever changing, fitting himself into molds and then breaking free from them when he could feel himself suffocating. And as he stood across from the saber-wielding man who hunted him down, Din only felt the grip on his soul start to loosen— not tighten. 

“You want my son?” He grew angrier and his blood boiled hotter as the seconds ticked by. Venom laced every word out of his mouth and he found himself able to stand up straighter, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg. “You want to take that blade and strike me down with it? Is that what you want?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Djarin— it belittles us both.” Gideon responded with a roll of his eyes. “I have won. You have lost. And I will take my prize after I step over your cold, dead body.”

Din scoffed, a smirk of his own appearing— one that normally would have been hidden. It was an expression that a Mandalorian may never consider stifling, because they were the faceless warriors. Stoic. Hard to read. Safe behind the barricade. But not emotionless. Decades worth of conditioning led him here, breaking the rules with a force of love and passion and rage and stubbornness. This was who he had always been. And now he was ready for the entire galaxy to know it just as he did.

“You don’t scare me.” There was no fear in his words now. He was not broken. He was a lone soldier standing to protect his clan of two— a Mandalorian army of one with the determination of a thousand. And he was going to win. 

Gideon pointed the saber at his opponent and lifted it up into the space between them. “I don’t need to scare you. I just need to kill you.”

Din could almost feel the energy radiating off of it, eyes glancing to the odd white glow that surrounded the void of black. When he looked back up, his expression was calm, and his eyebrows perked slightly. “So just do it then.”

They lunged at each other. Din unsheathed one of his blades from a leg holster and dodged the Darksaber just in time to miss getting hit. His knife went towards Gideon at the same time but missed. It was back and forth a few times at the start, but both of them were getting tired of waiting and it soon escalated into a close quarters fight.

Had he been in better shape, the Mandalorian made have made quick work of his opponent. He eventually got a hit in— his blade met with Gideon’s left arm and slashed through the fabric, meeting with his skin. The other man let out a hiss, lashing out with the saber.

It sliced Din’s knife diagonally in half.

As the sharp point fell to the ground, Din was left staring at a useless blade handle as smoke rose from the red-hot edge where it was cut. With a huff of frustration, he threw it to the ground and had only a split second to fend off another attack.

The Darksaber met with Din’s arm and he cried out, but it was only a flesh wound. And then, in a fit of rage and luck, he aimed a kick at Gideon’s legs and sent the Imp to his knees. Mando grabbed another smaller blade and slashed up, catching the arm holding the saber. 

In his surprise and pain, Moff Gideon let go of his weapon and it fell right into Din Djarin’s grasp. After that, there was only one option left and there was no hesitation.

Once it was in his hand, Din spun his body around and plunged the Darksaber into Gideon’s chest. Their eyes met— Din’s full of rage and pain that spanned across the decades, Gideon’s full of surprise and disbelief as they slowly drained of life.

“Maybe I should have warned you.” A pause. **“Don’t mess with my clan.”** The unmasked Mandalorian drove the weapon in farther, and then let it retract back into the hilt. The hum was silenced, letting the end of their confrontation hang in the air for a few moments. And then Moff Gideon fell limply to the ground, never to get up again.

The quiet had never felt so heavy before. When all was said and done, Din was surrounded by destruction as he crouched with one knee up and the other against the earth. The surface around him was scorched, littered with shards of metal and drops of blood from both sides of the fight that had just ended. Smoke curled up from scattered points on the battlefield. Stormtroopers surrounded him on the ground, proof of what he had just fought through. He was the last man standing.

The adrenaline was dying down. The pain in his leg was coming back into focus, and he could feel the blood caking the side of his face. The Darksaber had cauterized the cut on his arm, but it was throbbing. He was able to stay propped up on his one good leg and let his face fall forward to rest in the palm of his hand. It was finally over, but the world was spinning. A few long, stretched out seconds ticked by— and then he remembered who he had left behind.

Din’s face lifted from his hand, gaze whipping over to the side where his child was (hopefully) still hiding behind their pitiful barricade. But before he had a chance to do or even think anything else, the little one had joined him.

The foundling’s little three fingered hand was outstretched, reaching up towards him and the cauterized slash near his elbow. “No, no—” Din’s voice was rough and quiet, a true testament to how tired and worn he was feeling. He scooped up his son before any force healing could take place, setting him down on the leg he was still leaning on. “You can’t keep healing me, remember? I’ll be okay.”

A smile was attempted, but it felt unconvincing. In response, Din was given small squeaks and then two small hands gently squeezed his nose. The smile that occurred afterwards was genuine and took up his entire face. It amazed him that he could find this much joy while being surrounded by so much death. But the little one in his lap had no fear and only love to give. Din was grateful for it. Today had proven that he would do anything to make sure that love and joy and light would never be taken from the world. (Or from him).

Eventually, Din pushed himself to his feet. Cradled in one arm was the child he loved, and in his other hand held the legendary weapon of his people. Before he began moving, he took a moment to look over the Darksaber. It felt strange to hold it, and to now own it— but it was a victory that he knew he had earned. 

Slow paces— one after the other. The Mandalorian was in no rush. Early on in the fight, troopers had ambushed him and managed to take his jetpack from him. He searched for that first, stuffing the Darksaber in his tool belt so he had a free hand. A short three minute search led him to it, and he returned it to its rightful place.

After that was done, Din returned to the hiding spot from earlier to grab his discarded helmet. It was still part of him, and there was no way he would leave it behind. Time and effort would be needed to fix it, but it would be worth it. Din Djarin _would_ wear his helmet again— because he was a Mandalorian, and he meant what he said earlier. Nothing could take that away from him.

Now he had everything he needed. Din took a few moments to situate his kid in a bag that he threw over his shoulder. The little green baby giggled as he sat across his chest, and it made him smile.

In his left hand: his helmet.

In his right: the Darksaber. The Mandalorian unsheathed the weapon and held it out in front of him, letting himself get used to the strange hum it emitted. It was mesmerizing— powerful and beautiful at the same time. And it would keep them safe.

Din took a few more steps and then the small rockets strapped to his back were set off, and away their clan of two flew back to their ship to survive another day.

**Author's Note:**

> i still have so much research to do about mandalorians and the darksaber and such, but i had inspiration to write this and just wanted to get it out there-- so apologies if anything seems off. i wanted to explore din evolving and finding his identity for himself and for his family, maybe start the journey to finding a balance between a new version of himself and who he has been his entire life. i just have a lot of emotions about din djarin.


End file.
